Holy One will work a Miracle of Grace, in behalf of fuch Tranfgreffors? He may, for aught any Mortal knows, "laugh at their Calamity, " and mock when their Fear cometh."

THUS they lie, groaning out the poor Remains of Life; their Limbs bathed in Sweat; their Heart ftruggling with convulfive Throes; Pains infupportable throbbing in every Pulse; and innumerable Darts of Agony transfixing their Confcience.

In that dread Moment, how the frantic Soul
Raves round the Walls of her Clay Tenement;
Runs to each Avenue; and fhrieks for Help;
But fhrieks in vain! How wishfully She looks
On ail She's leaving, now no longer her's!
A little longer, yet a little longer,

O! might She stay, to wash away her Crimes,
And fit her for her Paffage! Mournful Sight!
Her very Eyes weep Blood; and every Groan
She heaves, is big with Horror: But the Foe,
Like a ftaunch Murdrer, fteady to his Purpofe,
Purfues her clofe thro' ev'ry Lane of Life,
Nor miffes once the Track; but preffes on;
Till, forc'd at laft to the tremendous Verge,
At once fhe finks*.

If this be the End of the Ungodly, "My
Soul, come not Thou into their Secret! Un-

*See a valuable Poem, intitled The Grave.

"to

66

to their Affembly, mine Honour, be not Thou united!"-How awfully accomplished is that Prediction of inspired Wisdom! Sin, though feemingly sweet in the Commiffion; yet at the laf, it biteth like a Serpent, and fingeth like an Adder.-Fly therefore from the Tents, O! fly from the Ways, of fuch wretched Men.

HAPPY Diffolution! were this the Period of their Woes. But, alass! all these Tribulations, are only "the Beginning of Sorrows;" a fmall Drop only from that "Cup of Trembling," which is mingled for their future Portion.No fooner has the last Pang diflodged their reluctant Souls, but they are hurried into the Presence of an injured angry Go D. Not under the conducting Care of beneficent Angels, but exposed to the Infults of accurled Spirits; who lately tempted them, now upbraid them, and will for ever torment them.-Who can imagine their Confusion and Diftrefs; when they stand, guilty and inexcufable, before their incenfed Creator? They are received with Frowns. The GoD that made them, has no "Mercy on them*." The Prince of Peace, rejects them with Abhorrence. He configns them over to Chains of Darkness, and Receptacles of Despair; against the feverer Doom, and more public Infamy, of the Great Day.--Then,

all

* Ifa. xxvii. 11.

all the Vials of Wrath, will be emptied upon thefe wretched Creatures. The Law they have violated, and the Gospel they have flighted; the Power they have defied, and the Goodness they have abused; will all get themselves Honour in their exemplary Destruction. Then, Gon, the GOD to whom Vengeance belongeth, will draw the Arrow to the very Head, and fet them as the Mark of his inexorable Displeasure.

RESURRECTION will be no Privilege to them; but Immortality itself, their everlasting Curfe. -Would they not bless the Grave,“ that Land "where all Things are forgotten ;" and wish to lie eternally hid, in its deepest Gloom? But, the Duft refuses, to conceal their Persons; or to draw a Veil over their Practices. They also must awake; must arise; must appear at the Bar; and meet the Judge. A Judge, before whom "the Pillars "of Heaven tremble, and the Earth melts away." A Judge, once long-fuffering, and very compaffionate; but now unalterably determined, to teach stubborn Offenders-What it is, to provoke the Omnipotent Godhead: what it is, to trample upon the Blood of his Son: and offer Defpite to all the gracious Overtures of his Spirit.

O! THE Perplexity! the Distraction! that must seize the impenitent Rebels, when they are fuinmoned to the great Tribunal!-What will they do, in that Day of fevere Vifitation? This

Day

Day of final Decifion?-Where? How? Whence, can they find Help?-To which of the Saints will they turn? Whither betake themfelves, for Shelter or for Succour?-Alafs! 'tis all in vain; 'tis all too late.-Friends and Acquaintance know them no more. Men and Angels abandon them, to their approaching Doom. Even the Mediator, the MEDIATOR himfelf, deferts them in this dreadful Hour.To fly, will be impracticable: to justify themfelves, ftill more impoffible: and now, to make any Supplications, utterly unavailable.

BEHOLD! the Books are opened. The Secrets of all Hearts are difclofed. The hidden Things of Darkness are brought to Light. How empty, how ineffectual now, are all thofe refined Artifices; with which Hypocrites imposed upon their Fellow-creatures, and preferved a Character in the Sight of Men!--The jealous GOD, who has been about their Path, and about their Bed, and 'fpied out all their Ways, fets before them the Things that they have done. They cannot answer him one in a Thousand, nor ftand in the awful Judgment. The Heavens reveal their Iniquities, and the Earth rifes up against him. They are fpeechlefs with Guilt, and ftigmatized with Infamy, before all the Armies of the Sky, and all the Nations of the Redeemed. What a Favour would they esteem VOL. I.

K

¥ Job xx. 27.

it;

it; to hide their afhamed Heads, in the Bottom of the Ocean; or even to be buried, beneath the Ruins of the tottering World!

IF the Contempt, poured upon them, be thus infupportable; how will their Hearts endure, when the Sword of infinite Indignation is unsheathed; and fiercely waved, around their defenceless Heads; or pointed directly, at their naked Breafts? How muft the Wretches fcream with wild Amazement, and rend the very Heavens with their Cries, when the right-aiming Thunderbolts go abroad! Go abroad, with a dreadful Commiffion, to drive them from the Kingdoms of Glory; and plunge them—not into the Sorrows of a Moment, or the Tortures of an Hour-but into all the restless Agonies, of unquenchable Fire, and everlasling Despair*.

MISERY of Miferies! too shocking for Reflection to dwell upon. But, if so dismal to forefee; and that at a Distance; together with fome comfortable Expectation of escaping it— O! how bitter, inconceivably bitter, to bear; without any Intermiffion; or any Mitigation; through hopeless and eternal Ages!

WHO has any Bowels of Pity ?-Who has any Sentiments of Compaffion? Who has any

tender

* Regions of Sorrow, doleful Shades, where Peace
And Reft can never dwell; Hope never comes,
That comes to All: but Torture without End
Still urges, and a fiery Deluge, fed

With ever-burning Sulphur unconfum'd. MILT.